


A Delicate Arrangement

by mindabbles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry, M/M, Veela Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:10:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2903789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mindabbles/pseuds/mindabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's learned over time that a delicate touch is sometimes superior to a harsh grip. If he can remember that with Draco, he might solve the case, protect a dozen children, and he may, he may just get what he wants most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Delicate Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SPowell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/gifts).



> Happy New Year to all. SPowell, I do hope you enjoy your gift! Thank you to my beat and thank you to the mods for the opportunity!

Dark bruises of fatigue bloom beneath Draco's eyes. 

"He needs a break," Harry says, the moment they step out of the interview room and into the secure hallway. 

"He's about to break," says Milliken. The look of anticipation on Milliken's face makes Harry want to shove him. 

Harry's never liked Milliken.

"I don't think he knows anything about the robberies," Harry says, because he doesn't like Milliken's tactics, because he doesn't relish seeing Draco so exhausted, and because he really doesn't believe that Draco knows anything. 

"We won't know until we complete the interrogation." Milliken does everything but rub his hands together. "He has to cooperate or we throw him in Azkaban. He's still on probation, or did you forget?" 

"Perhaps you've forgotten that he's not under arrest. He's here because he agreed to help. We're supposed to be interviewing him, not interrogating him," Harry says. He clenches his fists and is a little pleased to see Milliken flinch. "I'm going in alone." 

"You can't keep me out of this interview," Milliken snaps. "It's my case." 

"Watch me."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Where's your friend?" Draco asks. He crosses his arms and leans back in his chair.

"Not my friend," answers Harry. 

Draco rolls his eyes. He's trying to look nonchalant, trying for tough, but this can't be easy and Harry's never seen him look so worn—not since sixth year. Harry sits across the table from Draco. He looks directly into his eyes. He's learned over the past few years that a well-placed stare can disarm most suspects. 

But Draco's not a suspect, he reminds himself. He stares anyway. Draco stares back. His grey eyes are beautiful. Harry could fall into them. Harry's eyes dart to Draco's lips and Harry knows that Draco sees. One corner of his mouth curves into a half-smile. Harry looks away. Advantage Draco. 

"So, are you in here alone so you can beat it out of me?" Draco asks.

"Torture doesn't work," Harry says.

"But if it did, you'd use it?" asks Draco. 

"Malfoy," Harry says, his voice stern with warning. Draco can take him down a path. He can get a rise out of him, set him to arguing. This is too important. "If you can remember _anything_ that would help, we might be able to get to the bottom of this and save these children." 

"Children?" Draco sneers. "That's using the word loosely."

There's something in his tone that's more hurt than disdain. 

All these times in this little room with him, Harry's learned to read him. One thing he's learned is that his tough exterior is as fragile as an eggshell. 

"Let's get out of here," Harry says. "I can't think in this room."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Does this mean I'm not detained?" Draco asks.

The cafe is warm and inviting inside, soothing the sting of the bitter wind from his cheeks. Draco's cheeks and nose are red. 

"You were never detained. Milliken is an arse." 

Draco smiles and Harry searches for what to say to keep him smiling. 

"I knew that. I didn't know you knew." 

"It's hard to miss," Harry says, and he's rewarded with another smile. "Coffee or tea?" 

"Tea," says Draco. "And some biscuits. But don't think that plying me with treats is going to make me spill everything. I'm made of sterner stuff than that." 

"That's hard to miss," says Harry. 

He'll take his time. Draco's willing to help and Harry's found of late, that spending time with Draco is far from a chore. He's also learned over the past several years as an Auror that you get better information when you let it come as it may. Something about this, about sharing details about Veela powers, seems to be intensely personal for Draco. Harry's almost more intrigued by that fact than by anything he might get about the case. 

This is also a test, and Harry's sure Draco knows it. If he helps, if he proves useful, he may not only have his probation commuted, he may be hired on as a consultant for dealings with Veela. 

"We might be getting somewhere," Draco mutters as Harry steps away from the table to get tea and biscuits.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

They meet at the cafe everyday now. Draco never steps foot in the interview rooms anymore. Kingsley's signed off on Harry's plan. Harry never turns his back, or even blinks, in Milliken's presence. Harry pulls every piece of intelligence they receive and runs it by Draco. He's quick and shrewd and Harry hasn't enjoyed running a case with someone like this since he last worked with Ron.

Draco wraps his long fingers around his cup. He always pauses for a split second before he sips his tea. Harry has the absurd desire to ask him if being a Veela comes with a heightened sense of smell. He's learned so much, but he knows almost nothing. 

"I don't believe they're doing it by choice," Draco says. 

Last night, a third attack was reported in a village on the west coast. A group of Veela—some witnesses said there were two and some said there were as many as ten—committed a rash of robberies. Some people said they had beaks like birds and dragon's wings, others said they looked like swans, still others said they were like Sirens and hypnotized everyone in earshot. Unreliability of witness testimony aside, everyone said they were terrified and even experienced witches and wizards felt helpless to stop them. 

"Why's that?" Harry asks. 

Draco meets his eyes and he realizes he's been staring. He's found himself staring at Draco more and more lately. Questions about wings bubble up and onto his tongue. He keeps them down. This alliance they've built is a fragile thing and Harry knows enough about being a source of curiosity to keep it to himself. 

"Because we don't behave that way except under duress," Draco says. He doesn't look away. Harry's never heard him refer to himself as "we" and one of the company of Veela before. 

"So what's going on, then?" Harry asks, forcing himself to concentrate on the case. Knowing he shouldn't ask Draco about his wings doesn't mean he doesn't spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about it.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Draco drains the last of his tea. Harry scribbles notes, catching up on their conversation. Draco's been more open the last two times they've met. Meeting alone and outside of the Ministry seems to have done wonders for his cooperation and his memory.

There are two consistencies in the witness statements—the Veela are all very young and they have wings spread when they descend on a village. Other details are less clear, so Harry's focus is on understanding Veela wings. 

"Wings only come out during times of stress," Draco says. 

"Danger, like?" Harry asks. "So these children are in danger?" 

"Danger, fury, and, well, other intense feelings—but I doubt it's that." 

"Draco," Harry asks. "Do you have wings? I mean you must, right? It's—what do you mean other intense feelings?" 

"Well, Potter," Draco says. "Read between the lines. Heart racing. Pulse pounding. Breath coming quick and hard. That moment you lose control of your body and let go."

Harry can't breathe. He certainly can't think—his blood has left his brain. "Oh, I'll just go and get us some more coffee, then. Tea. I'll get more tea." 

"And then I'll tell you more," Draco says, sitting back in his chair with the smuggest smile Harry has ever seen.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry drums his fingers on the table. He's never noticed how worn the Formica is, nor the ugly gold and brown splotches that pass for decoration. He's sat at this table a dozen times and rarely looked at anything except Draco.

This is the second day Draco hasn't shown. One day is a fluke. Two days is a pattern, and a worrisome one.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Malfoy Manor looms ahead and Harry reminds himself that he is not a teenager anymore.

A crack of Apparition makes Harry jump. He ducks behind a shrub that's carved in the shape of a swan. Lucius is on the sweeping front steps of the manor. His fists are clenched and he looks up at the sky. He makes a loud sound of frustration and raises his wand. Harry raises his wand as a precaution—Lucius can't have seen him, but he'd rather not be surprised. Lucius whirls, his robes fanning out around him, and aims his wand right where Harry is crouching behind the shrub. Harry flattens himself against the ground and casts a wordless shield spell. Lucius' spell hits the topiary swan's wings, and twigs and leaves blast twenty feet up in the air. Leaves and shards of wood rain down on Harry's head. 

Lucius turns on his heel and strides to the huge front doors. Harry slips his Invisibility Cloak over his head and dashes silently behind Lucius. The Manor's huge doors swing open as Lucius steps to them and Harry follows him inside. 

Lucius turns right and opens a door to what must be his study. 

Harry turns left and takes the curving stairs two at a time. 

He walks as slowly as he can make himself walk, along the wide hallway. The walls are decorated with portraits that thankfully do not seem to know he's there. He can only begin to imagine the value of the vases and candlesticks that adorn the tables that line the hallway. 

Draco mentioned once, during a long conversation at the cafe, how, when he was younger and during the war, he'd kept what passed for his sanity at the time by watching for deer and foxes and rabbits on the south slopes of the manor grounds. That meant his bedroom must be in the south wing. 

Harry tries a door. It opens to his touch. It's huge and ornate with a giant canopy bed. It's empty. The second and third doors yield much the same. 

The fourth door is locked. 

Harry drops to his knees. There's an honest-to-goodness keyhole that must take a key so large it would barely fit in his pocket. Harry takes a deep breath and leans to press his eye to it. 

It's another large room. This one is simpler, tasteful. A figure stands in front of the south-facing window, backlit by the sunlight filtering through. 

Harry's breath catches in his chest. The white-blond hair and the set of the shoulders can only be Draco. His fists are clenched in the curtains and he's naked from the waist up. Wings spread out from his shoulder blades. They must be six feet across. Harry can only think of a swan, snowy white and elegant, beautifully delicate and fierce at the same time. The wings move and the air ruffles the curtains. The feathers catch the light, shimmering gold and silver. Harry wants to touch them more than he's ever wanted to touch anything else in his life. 

Harry's fingers circle the door handle even as he knows he will not try and open the door. Whatever is going on, Draco would not want him here. 

He will never get this image out of his head. He wishes he hadn't come. 

Draco turns as if he's heard a noise and stares at the door. Harry backs away, checking his cloak, and runs back down the stairs and onto the grounds until he can Apparate.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Sleep will not come. Every time Harry closes his eyes, he sees Draco's wings. He pictures his pale skin, long legs, and slim frame—everything about Draco is fragile and tough as steel at the same time.

He cannot stop thinking about what might have made Draco's wings come out. _Heart racing. Pulse pounding. Breath coming quick and hard. That moment you lose control of your body and let go._

Harry presses a hand against his half-hard cock. He's been half-hard since he saw Draco through that key hole. He slips his hand inside his pants and squeezes, feeling his cock fill and harden. He strokes, thinking about how those wings might beat air against his face as Draco rides him, pushing Harry deep inside. 

"Fuck," he moans. Draco was beautiful in the light, his silhouette long and gorgeous. "Fuck," he groans again as it occurs to him that, technically, Draco has violated his agreement with the Ministry by not showing up at their meetings, and technically, Harry should have reported him instead of breaking into Draco's house to make sure he's safe.

Harry pulls his hand from his throbbing cock and bites the inside of his cheek. He grabs a piece of parchment and a quill and writes Draco a hasty note. He reads it over quickly and decides it might be a little more strongly worded than it would have been if he weren't still half-hard. He sends it anyway.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry awakes to an owl pecking at his window. It's a gorgeous snowy owl that, for a moment, reminds him strongly of Hedwig.

He lets it in and pulls a scroll from its leg. It spreads its wings and Harry sees why Draco chose it. 

Harry pushes his glasses onto his face and unrolls the parchment.

> Potter,
> 
> I appreciate your concern and your threats. I was unavoidably detained. I have no intention of reneging on my agreement, so you can calm down. I am still unable to come to our meeting in person. I am not well. 
> 
> I do have some information for you. Now, before you go off and say I've been withholding information and you'll have to report me, I will tell you that I haven't mentioned this because I didn't think it was important. However, I was reminded of a particular time in my life just the other night. 
> 
> There is a village next to Durmstrang, much like Hogsmeade is to Hogswarts. In that village is a small organisation that passes for a school. Families of Veela children who cannot afford the fees at Durmstrang go there for basic education. When I was fifteen, I was sent to Durmstrang for a summer course. My father sent me and I hated it. I heard about the group of Veela and I ran away from Durmstrang and spent a week with them, learning more about Veela powers. Don't ask me about why I was sent away from home that summer, why I ran away from Durmstrang, or why I had to go to strangers to learn about my powers. None of that has anything to do with our agreement. 
> 
> What might have something to do with our agreement is that something about that organisation struck me as off. Some of the others, especially those from the poorest families, seemed to have been there for a very long time. Sometimes they disappeared for a couple of days at a time with no explanation. I remember hearing whispers and chatter that made me think something untoward was going on. I left before I could find out more and I forgot about it until the other night. 
> 
> I hope this is enough to convince you that I haven't gone rogue. You may not believe this, but I do want to help. You may also not believe this, but I have missed our afternoons at the cafe. 
> 
> Draco Malfoy
> 
> P.S. I know you were in the Manor. I don't know how you did it. I'd wager you can't manage it again.

Harry sends his response right away—half thank you and half apology—and Apparates to the Ministry. 

It takes some explaining, but Kingsley sends word to the Norwegian Ministry that there will be a team of Aurors on the ground by morning, and asking for cooperation in identifying the villages closest to the school.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry had to agree to have every memory of the actual journey wiped, as did the other Aurors who were sent to follow up on Draco's tip. It was worth it. The mountains and lakes around the village are stunning. The clear, crisp air gives way to more stars than Harry knew existed, which improves the place because it only seems to be daylight for a few hours at a time.

"Go around the back way," Harry whispers to Klein. She's quick with her wand and has a keen sense of when to use it. 

He sends Smiley and Halliwick to different sides of the building and he takes the front. 

It's a long, low building with a chimney that's puffing smoke into the night sky. It looks to be a century old. 

He hears a commotion from the back and doesn't wait. He kicks in the front door. There's no one in the front room. Smiley comes crashing through a window and Halliwick, a little more delicate, finds a side door. 

"Back here," calls Klein. 

The three of them dash to the back of the building, wands raised. As he runs, Harry's aware that he's running past rows of cots that seem to be occupied, but no one stirs. 

"This was way too easy," Klein says. Two people lie bound and stunned at her feet. 

"Maybe they never expected anyone to find out," Harry says, thinking of how long it took Draco to tell him. "Come on," Harry whispers, going back to the room where he'd seen the cots. 

The people in the beds range in age from about ten to about seventeen. Harry leans to touch a boy's shoulder. The boy doesn't move, doesn't wake. He shakes him gently. Klein does the same with a girl on the other side of the room.

"They're under an enchantment," says Smiley. 

"Look at this," calls Halliwick. 

Harry turns to see that Halliwick has opened a wardrobe with a false back. It opens onto a room full of gold and jewellery, art and artefacts—all the stolen goods from the last several attacks.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

He's not sneaking in this time. He has authorization from the Ministry to bring Draco in.

It took him longer than he'd like to admit to suss it out, that last line in Draco's letter. One thing he's learned is that Draco doesn't usually say things without reason. That and his missing two of their appointments was enough to get Kingsley agree that Harry has reason to detain him. 

He pounds on the door. He pounds again. He's a split second from blasting it when it swings open. A house else wrapped in what looks like a bathmat opens the door. Lucius is standing in the foyer, his wand in his hand.

"To what do I owe the dubious pleasure?" Lucius asks. 

"I need to speak to Draco," Harry says. He steps inside the foyer, without waiting for an invitation, and slips his wand into his hand.

"I'm afraid that will not be possible," says Lucius. "Millie, get out of here." 

Harry wonders if Lucius had a moment of doubt about the loyalty of his house else when faced with Harry Potter. 

"You misunderstand me," Harry says. "I'm not asking permission." 

Lucius is quick, but Harry is quicker. He blocks Lucius' stunning spell and counters with his own. Lucius ducks and some ancient Malfoy in a portrait behind them shrieks as Harry's hex shatters its frame. 

"I've waited a long time for this," Lucius screams. His eyes blaze.

"Good," Harry says, as they circle each other. "So have I." 

"Arrogant little pissant," Lucius spits out. He's stalling, circling, getting into a better position. 

"I only want to talk to Draco," Harry says. His wand is raised and his eyes don't leave Lucius'. 

Lucius backs up and his eyes dart to a door behind him. 

" _Cruciatus_ ," Lucius bellows. 

Harry counters with _Protego_ and advances on Lucius. 

"Lucius! Enough!" 

Harry and Lucius both turn to see who has screamed his name. Narcissa is at the end of the hallway. The split second of distraction gives Harry time to cast a stunning spell, unblocked as Lucius stares unbelieving at his wife. 

Lucius falls to the floor with a thud on a thick rug that's probably worth more than Harry's flat. 

"What—" Harry begins.

"He's in here," Narcissa says, tapping the door Lucius had looked at before. Harry gapes at her. This is the second time this woman has helped him and he's finding hard to believe, until he realises it must be for the same reason. "Get my son out of here," she says. "Lucius never could accept Draco. Draco tells me you might." 

"Will you be—" Harry begins again. He can't believe she'll be safe after helping him thwart whatever Lucius is trying to accomplish, yet again, and ensuring that Lucius will probably have yet another short stay in Azkaban. 

"Mr Potter," she says slowly. "Get my son out of here. I'll go to my sister's until Lucius comes to his senses." 

"I'll let Andromeda know you'll be staying a while if I see here," Harry says. He runs his hands over the door. It hums with magic. 

"You'll have to destroy it," Narcissa says, pointing at the door. "I have no idea how he locks it."

"Go, before he wakes up," Harry says. "And, thank you." 

Narcissa gives him a small smile and hurries into another room, where there must be a fireplace connected to the Floo Network.

" _Incarcerous_ ," says Harry, binding Lucius. He sends his Patronus to Milliken telling him to come and collect Lucius. 

The door is reinforced with layers of spells. Harry imagines that all Lucius would have to do is place his hand on it and it would swing open. He tries to detect them. He works for ten minutes trying to disarm every locking spell his knows. 

A groan from behind him tells him Lucius is close to regaining consciousness. 

"What the hell," he says, and he blasts the door to smithereens. 

He expected to find stairs leading down to a dungeon. He expected a bare room with one lamp and no chairs. He expected many things when he opened the door.

He did not expect a cupboard under the stairs. 

Draco is crouched, wearing a thin t-shirt and what look like equally thin pyjama bottoms. 

"Are you all right?" Harry asks, kneeling and leaning into the cramped space.

"Yes," Draco says, but his voice is shaky. 

Harry reaches out a tentative hand, touches Draco's shoulder. "Really? In here?" He asks, gesturing at the underneath of the stairs over their heads. 

"I believe he thought it was poetic," says Draco. He covers Harry's hand with his. 

Harry feels the touch tingle through his body. He looks at Draco and gets lost in his eyes. He feels drawn to him, wants to wrap his arms around him. 

"Perhaps he'd think it even more poetic if I took you home with me," Harry says. He realises just how much he's wanted to touch Draco, kiss him, for weeks now. 

"I honestly don't care what he thinks," Draco says. 

Harry takes his hand and helps him out from under the stairs. When he wraps his arms around Draco, to help him stand, Draco's cold and shaking. 

"Come on," he says. "Let's get you out of here."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry casts several warming charms in his flat, until it's so warm that he strips down to a t-shirt and trousers. He doesn't miss the way Draco's eyes linger on him when he pulls off his jumper.

"How long did he have you in there?" Harry asks. 

Draco looks thin and drawn and he's drunk about eight cups of tea since they arrived twenty minutes earlier. He tries to count the number of days since he last saw Draco. 

"About three days, I think," says Draco. He wraps the blanket Harry gave him tighter around his body, pulling it up to his chin. 

"Why?" 

"Later, all right?" Draco asks. He's still shaking. 

"Have you eaten in those three days?" 

"No."

"Buggering hell," Harry snaps. He stomps into the kitchen and grabs bread and cheese and apples. He hesitates and grabs a bottle of brandy Andromeda gave him for Christmas. 

Draco tears into the food. Harry can see him trying to slow down, but he can't. Harry knows just what that's like. He begins to tell Draco that, but stops himself. 

Harry pours them both generous snifters of brandy and sips his. Draco takes a huge gulp.

"Easy," says Harry. 

Draco glares at him and takes another gulp. He waves his wand and refills Harry's glass. "You're not going to let me get drunk alone, are you?" 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. You've not eaten for days and maybe we should talk about what happened," Harry says. "The case," he corrects quickly at Draco's glare. "I mean the case." 

Draco takes another drink. "Let's get this out of the way. My father has always been ashamed of me being a Veela. He's taken his disappointment out on me in a hundred ways, my whole life. When what's-his-name was in charge of our lives, my father thought I might prove myself to be a real pureblood man after all. We all know how that ended. What I've done recently, actually using the fact that I'm a Veela and that particularly shameful time when I ran away from Durmstrang, to help the Ministry and, worse yet, you. Well, that was a tipping point. I've never seen him so angry." He stops and his eyes are focusing on something far away. 

Harry knows that look. He's had it on his face and he knows enough to leave it alone. "No, I'm not," he says.

"What?"

"Going to let you get drunk alone." 

Harry lights a fire and settles next to Draco on the sofa. The brandy is fine and warms him from the inside out. The colour returns to Draco's cheeks. Harry tells him about the house near Durmstrang and what they found. 

"So, I'm fairly sure the attacks will stop," Harry says. "They were experimenting on those kids, seeing how far they could push them and what they could do. The kids were all under enchantments." 

"Good," Draco says. "Not good that the kids were experimented on, I mean. Good that it wasn't for nothing, me putting the final nail in the coffin for, of—that's not quite—"

"I think you've had enough to drink," Harry says, gently. He takes Draco's glass from his hand and brushes his fingers. That tingling sensation rushes up his arm again. 

"I don't think I have. Had enough to drink," Draco says. He leans closer to Harry on the sofa. Harry raises his eyebrows in question. "And here I thought you knew everything," he says. "If I'd had enough to drink I would have worked up the courage to do this." 

Draco leans in, or falls forward more like, and presses a kiss to Harry's jaw. 

"Damn," says Draco. "Missed." 

Harry can still feel the kiss on his jaw, tingling. Draco is pissed as Harry's ever seen anyone. Harry's not much more sober. He cups Draco's face with his hand and turns his face up. 

"You meant to do this?" he asks and kisses Draco's lips. 

"Mm," Draco hums and he moves his mouth on Harry's. He tangles his hands in Harry's hair and Harry feels that tingling all through his body, from Draco's fingers and his mouth, and an explosion of it when he parts his lips and touches Draco's tongue with his. Draco presses his body closer to Harry's. He's thin and he's still trembling. Harry wraps his arms more tightly around Draco to stop the shaking. 

"You should get some rest, in a warm bed," Harry says. He pulls away reluctantly. He'd like nothing more than to push Draco back onto the sofa and fuck him slowly until he forgets about Lucius, the Manor, and that he was ever made to feel ashamed. "Not now. If you just said aloud that you thought I knew everything, you're way too pissed," he says, when Draco gives him a stunned, bleary eyed glare. "Come on." 

He hoists Draco from the sofa and half-leads, half-carries him to the guest room. It's warm and has a big, comfortable bed. Draco slips into the bed and lays back, his pale hair fanning out of the pillow. Harry can't help but smooth it back from his face. Draco's asleep before Harry can say goodnight. 

Harry sits and watches him until he's sure he's asleep.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry must have been asleep because something has awakened him. He rubs his eyes and blinks. Someone's in the doorway and he has his hand on his wand before he remembers that Draco is here.

"What happened?" Harry asks. He sits up and puts on his glasses. Draco's standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. 

"Can't sleep," Draco says. He pauses and Harry doesn't rush to fill the silence. "It's stupid."

There's another look Harry knows—a grown man, a skilled wizard, haunted by nightmares. 

"It's not stupid," Harry says. He scoots over on the bed and Draco comes to sit next to him. Draco looks better than he did earlier. A little sleep, getting warm, and a bite to eat will do wonders. The nightmares will take longer. 

"Earlier," Draco says, "you said _not now_." He touches Harry's shoulder and slides his hand down Harry's arm. His fingers circle Harry's wrist. "Now." 

"You're still drunk," Harry says, even as he knows it can't be true. He has nearly as much as Draco and he's not. "It's not that I don't want—"

"Harry," says Draco. "I want to wake up in the morning with this," he says, voice breathy as he squeezes Harry's cock through his pyjamas, "as my most recent memory. Please." 

"Ah," Harry gasps. That tingling sensation on his cock tosses any thoughts of caution and temperance out of his head. Harry slips his hand under Draco's shirt. He can feel his heart beating. Draco's hand moves on his cock. Harry pulls the t-shirt off Draco's body and leans to kiss his chest. Draco scoots up the bed and pulls Harry with him. 

"Oh god, Draco," Harry says, kissing him. "Yes. Your wings. I want to watch. I want to see them come." He knows from how Draco's behaved that Lucius succeeded in making him ashamed. "Please." 

Draco nods and turns to kneel on the bed, his arms resting on the headboard. Harry presses his chest to Draco's back. Draco sighs and Harry kisses the back and sides of his neck. His skin is warm beneath Harry's lips. Harry's cock hardens and aches. 

"I want you," Harry whispers, tracing his tongue around the shell of Draco's ear. "I want to see all of you, want to make you lose control." Draco tenses and Harry smoothes his hands over Draco's body, kissing his neck and back and shoulders until he relaxes. "You're going to be so beautiful," Harry murmurs, picturing those magnificent, white wings, spread wide and Harry thrusts into body. "Fuck," he groans. 

Harry runs his hands over Draco's arse, slowly, feeling for tension. Draco presses back against Harry and widens his knees. His breath is quick and ragged, and Harry wonders just how far gone he has to be to open his wings.

"Please," Draco gasps. He grabs Harry's hand and moves it to his cock. He's hard and hot and Harry strokes him. 

"Yeah," he moans and then mutters a spell, making his fingers slippery. He strokes Draco's cock, slow and steady, and he pushes one finger inside Draco's body. "Okay?" 

"Yeah," Draco breathes and he pushes back against Harry's finger. 

"Okay?" Harry says again as he slips another finger into Draco's arse. 

"Good," Draco says. His knuckles are white where he grips the headboard. He rocks his hips, fucking into Harry's hand and fucking himself on Harry's fingers. "Fuck me," he says. 

Harry presses one hand, palm flat, against Draco's shoulder blade, where the wings will come, if Harry can take Draco high enough. He holds his cock steady and pushes against Draco's hole. "Draco," he groans as the head pushes past the tight muscle. He leans in slower, pushing deeper until he feels Draco's arse against his body. 

"Yes, yes," Draco murmurs. He looks over his shoulder at Harry. His cheeks are pink and a sheen of sweat has broken out on his forehead. "Fuck me," he says again. 

"Heart racing," Harry says. He pulls out and looks down to see his cock, thick and glistening, sliding out of Draco's body. "Breath quick and _hard_ ," he says, thrusting back into Draco. 

Draco groans and braces himself on the headboard. "Touch me," he says. He meets each of Harry's thrusts. 

Harry leans forward, his chest against Draco, changing the angle and fucking him in short, sharp thrusts. He reaches around and circles Draco's cock with his fingers. Draco's cock feels perfect in his hand, hard and long. "Next time, I'm going to suck you." 

Draco moans long and deep and Harry feels every muscle in Draco's back flex under him. "Fuck, Harry," groans Draco. 

Harry doesn't dare stop, doesn't dare move, as much as he wants to lean back and watch. He feels wings unfurling from Draco's shoulder blades. He opens his eyes and sees white. Harry fucks Draco slowly now, pulling out and pressing back in with each long breath. He presses his cheek to a wing, the soft feathers against his face. 

"Gorgeous," he says. "Oh god, so beautiful." Harry wants this to last, this moment to freeze. Forever. 

He let's go of Draco's cock. He needs to touch the wings. He needs to see them in their full glory. They feel like silk, cool and smooth and soft. Harry pushes his cock all the way into Draco, as deep as he can and stills. Draco's wings move gracefully, as if he were hovering in place and they make a soft rustling sound, like leaves deep in the silence of a forest. 

"Okay?" Draco asks and there is so much in his one word question.

"Perfect," Harry says, touching the wings from where they meet Draco's back to as far along the span as Harry can reach. "I—I want to see them. Really see them."

He pulls slowly out of Draco and Draco makes a soft noise that sounds like regret as Harry's cock slips all the way from his body. 

"What do you want?" Draco asks. 

Harry lies down on the bed on his back. He wants to feel the breeze of them moving on his face, but he can't quite put that into words. Not yet. "Turn around," he says. 

Draco lets go of the headboard. He turns on his knees and looks down at Harry's body. "I want you back inside me," he says. 

"Come here," murmurs Harry. 

He grabs Draco's hand and pulls him until Draco is straddling him. Draco's wings are even more spectacular from this angle. They catch the moonlight and Harry can see that the feathers are iridescent. Draco moves them and Harry's struck by their power. 

Draco smiles. "Never seen you speechless before." He moves again so that Harry's cock is pressing against his arse. "Want to make you lose control. Heart racing. Pulse pounding. Breath quick and _hard_ ," he says, pushing down and working Harry's cock inside him. 

Harry curls his hands around Draco's waist. "You feel so good," he says, rolling his hips. He digs his heels into the bed and rolls his hips again. Draco's wings flutter and a cool breeze hits Harry's face. 

Draco's long, lean legs are folded beneath him. His strong thighs contract as he rides Harry. He rocks back and forth, working Harry deeper and deeper. Harry forces himself to keep his eyes open. He doesn't want to waste a moment of this. The way Draco moves, his body, his wings, the burning look in his eyes, it's all nearly as good as the hot friction on his cock. 

"Close," Draco says. He works his hips in a circle and gasps. 

Harry touches Draco's cock, stroking it in fast, sharp strokes in time with Draco's movements. Draco's wings stretch out to their full span and Harry guesses they're more like seven feet. He can't see anything but Draco's silvery-white wings and his silvery-grey eyes and he's lost. He feels it from his toes and he needs to thrust harder and faster. He groans and he sees white behind his eyes, but he's not sure that it's not just Draco's wings. His cock pumps into Draco and his hand squeezes Draco's cock. 

"Harry," Draco moans. Draco's mouth is open, his breathing ragged and quick, and his face seems frozen in pleasure close to pain. Harry keeps stroking as Draco's hot come covers his hand. 

"Perfect," Harry says, because that's the only word that comes to mind.

Draco sighs and lowers himself forward. Harry is enveloped in soft, white feathers, that smell of Draco and maybe a little bit of him. He splays his hand on Draco's back and closes his eyes to the soft rustling of the gentle movements of Draco's wings.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Harry awakes when the sun hits his face. He curls toward the warm body beside him. Draco's breathing is soft and deep. The dark bruises of fatigue seem to be easing. Harry runs his hands down the soft, pale skin of Draco's back, gently so as not to wake him. There is no trace of the wings, but Draco is beautiful in the morning light. Harry leans up on his elbow to look at him.

Soon, there will be a great many things to deal with—about the case, about Lucius, about what Draco's to do next and his place in the Ministry. But first, Draco has to eat some more and sleep some more. Harry has to touch him and get to know every inch of him some more. 

There will be a great many things to do, soon, Harry thinks, as he spoons up behind Draco. For now, this is enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave your comments here or at [Livejournal](http://hd_owlpost.livejournal.com/). Comments are ♥.


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